


A World of Hunters

by Hatsonhamburgers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A World of Hunters, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Castiel in the Bunker, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Multiple Orgasms, POV Castiel, POV Dean Winchester, POV Mary Winchester, Season/Series 11 Spoilers, Season/Series 12, Shameless Smut, Wing Kink, based on the sneak peek trailer, gratuitous pie, sex in the bunker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-17 00:00:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8122672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatsonhamburgers/pseuds/Hatsonhamburgers
Summary: Cas was banished, Sam was kidnapped, Dean was alive, and suddenly a very bad-ass Mary Winchester is back in their lives.  The regret Cas felt the last time he had seen Dean needed to be resolved.  Apparently Dean has the same idea.  
This fic is based on about 1 second of the sneak peek trailer of season 12.  
So like, episode 12x1 if I had been allowed to write it.  With copious amounts of smut.





	1. Cas in Flux

**Author's Note:**

> WATCH THIS FIRST PLEASE!!!!!
> 
>  
> 
> [A World of Hunters sneak peek SPN 12](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UhHysyHdorE#action=share)
> 
>  
> 
> I just had to.

 

“Hands in the air, get on your knees,” Mary’s voice rang out, bouncing off the bunker walls as she aimed a steady gun at Castiel’s head.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Dean, darting forward to block the shot, “it’s okay, he’s a friend.”

Cas squared his shoulders, stiffening at the sight of the long lost Mary Winchester aiming a 9mm at his forehead. His appearance in the bunker probably could have been accomplished more delicately, as opposed to flying in, but he didn’t think knocking on the door would have prompted a better reaction. Might as well save someone a trip up the stairs. 

Mary looked at Dean with shock and something akin to incredulousness.

“Dean, he just appeared out of thin air,” Mary said suspiciously, aiming the gun quickly away from her son, “in my experience, only a few things can do that.”

“Technically, I flew in,” Cas interjected, giving an awkward wave, “I didn’t intend to startle anyone-”

“What the fuck is that thing,” Mary spat out at Dean, ignoring the angel completely.

Dean sighed deeply and closed his eyes, stepping forward to catch his mom’s upper arms in a calming touch. Cas could see her clenched muscles immediately relax in his grip.

“That ‘thing’ is Cas,” he said softly, “and he’s an angel- but more importantly, he’s family.”

Cas blushed slightly, eyes darting to everything in the room but them, trying to look as nonthreatening as possible. He was still smarting a little from the ‘friend’ comment, if he wanted to be honest with himself. If he _really_ wanted to be honest with himself, he was still feeling the disappointment from Dean calling him ‘brother’ in the car earlier that week. On the way to get beer. When it was just the two of them. 

Cas had been sure that there was something important about to transpire when they went on the beer run. Dean had stomped around the bunker, basically having given up any notion of stopping the Darkness, grumbling about beer. The Dream Team charged with stopping the Apocalypse (the most current Apocalypse) was comprised of the King of Hell, Rowena the witch, Cas, Chuck, and the Winchesters. The best strategy they could come up with at that point was to get completely smashed and wait for Chuck to die. And for the universe itself to implode into nothingness.

Crowley had been rummaging through the liquor cabinet whining about the quality of the scotch when Dean walked in from the kitchen announcing that he was going on a beer run. It was an unspoken tradition that Cas went with Dean whenever he went on a run of some sort (beer, take out, haircut, shopping), and this time was no exception. Cas had trailed him up the stairs and out to the Impala. He had actually been pleased to go- it meant a few minutes alone with Dean. An opportunity.

Of course, like most everything in his life, Cas was more than disappointed at the results of the conversation. _Brother?_ It was like a slap in the face. Dean had been so close to saying so much more, and then he pulled back. He started with ‘I-’ and switched to ‘we- me and Sam,’ and said he was like a brother. Cas had visibly grimaced and looked away from Dean. Of course, as always, he thanked him, screaming internally in frustration. There had to be more, he knew that there had to be more.

And there might have been. But Dean’s phone rang and the spell was broken and a u-turn was made, and Cas felt the progress of their tumultuous relationship turn with Baby. He never got to say his piece. Not now that he knew how Dean really felt. 

And then it was too late. Dean was gone, he wouldn’t take Cas with him (which Cas had no idea how to feel about that), and all Cas had of Dean to remember him by was a hug in a graveyard. Cas had done his best to desperately cling to his warm body and memorize the sensation of every contact point between them. He had fought the urge to bury his face into Dean’s neck and inhale his smell one last time, so he clenched his jaw and steeled himself, wondering what Dean was thinking and what emotions had crossed his face. Cas could have sworn he saw tears in Dean’s eyes as he smiled weakly and pulled him close; but that could have been from his farewell to Sam. The temptation to peek inside Dean’s mind was tearing at him; but he had made a promise to Dean, and there had already been so many betrayals. 

And then he was gone. Dean was gone and Cas was left with the wrong Winchester and a heart full of despair. He had made an oath to Dean to keep his little brother safe, and he almost instantly failed at that. That woman had banished him, leaving Sam alone to be kidnapped and who knows what else.

Finding his way back to the bunker took some time, and although Lucifer had been kind (ha!) enough to recharge him, Cas was alone again, and reaching out to the other angels was too risky. No telling what shape Heaven was in now- Cas had lost nearly every ally he had left there. 

He popped into the bunker several times, but it was an empty echo of the life they almost had. In case someone was watching, he had to carefully fly to several locations, keeping the pattern random, visiting quite a few places he and Dean had spent time in. Maryland- the vamp nest, Montana- a rather stubborn Wendego, Indiana- too many to count, Maine- where Dean took him to a brothel, and the barn where they had first met, face-to-face, and Dean had stabbed his vessel in the heart. Simpler times. 

His heart hurt with a ghost of that pain, its origins completely new and different. 

As he flew from location to location, he suddenly had an almost aching need to see Claire. He hadn’t been sure if she would even be interested in seeing him, but she answered his text immediately and they met at Jody’s house for dinner.

Jody had been very welcoming; Cas was sure he looked wretched and pathetic. She had dropped her rough exterior just a bit, just enough to offer comfort to him. She had allowed him into her home and offered him refuge for the night until he could get a way to locate Sam sorted out. 

And then Claire walked in the door from work. And Cas fell apart. 

He had meant to just offer her a warm hug, as was their tradition, but the fierce way she grabbed him and held him tight broke a dam of grief and drowned him in sorrow. She held him as sobs wracked through his body, until he was hiccuping and wiping snot on the sleeve of his trench coat. Claire had held his face and stared into his eyes, seeing him behind her father’s features, and smiled gently. 

“You’re going to be okay,” she had said, “maybe not now, but that’s fine. Now is when you just fall the fuck apart. And I’ll be right here.”

That had started Cas up all over again, and once Jody had deposited him onto the couch with a large cup of coffee and turned on Netflix for him, he was able to get ahold of his emotions. He felt so empty, and so regretful that he never told Dean. It hadn’t mattered that Dean had only ever seen him as a brother, he loved the man with every fiber of his being, and he let him go to his death without telling him.

But, of course, Dean wasn’t dead. He wasn’t dead, and Mary Winchester had been resurrected somehow, and things were back to being complicated and and wonderful, confusing and elated, full and empty. 

He had received a prayer from Dean at 2am, while he was still curled up on Jodi’s couch feeling sorry for himself. It sounded like Dean, a typical _get your feathery ass to the bunker,_ but Cas was sure it had to be an echo of his guilt-ridden mind. He had failed Dean again, putting Sam in danger when he promised to keep him safe. 

But the prayer had persisted, offering more than the usual Dean expressions, and Cas sat up, alert.

_Cas, I back, I’m really back- please come back to me. I need you here. Where are you? Sam’s gone too, I guess he’s with you? My mom’s back, Amara and Chuck left together and are fine, if you can believe it. Where are you? Call the bunker phone if you can hear me, please..._

Cas fumbled frantically in his pocket for his cell, only to find it dead. He felt a renewed sense of guilt- Sam could have called, and Cas didn’t charge his phone so he could answer. He considered using Jody’s house phone, but it seemed she didn’t own one. He’d have to just fly straight there. Hopefully it wasn’t some sort of trap- he wasn’t entirely sure Lucifer was dead; it was possible he was out there, circling like a vulture, looking for another vessel willing to let him in. Dean had actually applauded Cas for his decision to say yes, but Cas would never, ever, play host to his brother ever again. He was still unsure if Lucifer had left any residue inside of his mind. It was worth checking into.

Cas was high over Jody’s house when he remembered that time Dean yelled at him for leaving and not writing a note. He didn’t want Claire to feel that he had just popped back out of her life again, so he swooped into the living room, cleaned the mess he had left of the couch and coffee table, and found a scrap of paper entitled, ‘From the Desk of Sheriff Mills.’ He supposed it would be acceptable for him to use the paper as long as he clarified that it was him leaving the note. He had crossed out Jody’s name and scribbled his own, thinking for a second and scratching out ‘desk’ and put ‘couch,’ realizing after that maybe he should have left Jody’s name since it was her couch.

After quickly explaining the situation, he set the paper on the coffee table for Claire and flew off. He was very grateful for her comfort and kindness, and he would keep her in his heart forever. She had become family in the end, and the connection ran deep. She had learned quickly to see him and not her father, and explained that there were subtle differences in how he held himself and his expressions, and she stopped seeing Jimmy’s face looking back at her. 

He would never fully understand what it would be like to be a parent, and he felt very lucky that he had Claire to parent him sometimes. She was a unique young lady.

Which brought Cas to the present where he had just been looking down the barrel of Dean’s mother’s gun. He was surprised to see her, and was sure it was most certainly a trap, but Dean stepped in, stealing all the breath from Cas’ lungs, and prevented disaster once again. 

It didn’t escape Cas that Dean had just put himself in the path of a bullet for him, even though a 9mm round would barely pierce Cas’ vessel at that point. 

Mary had an eyebrow raised skeptically in his direction. 

“I trust you, Dean,” Mary said with a sigh, “it’s going to be a weird trip trying to get used to how much has changed since I was...dead. What year is it again?”

Dean’s face had washed over with relief at his mother’s tentative acceptance of Cas’ presence. Cas stepped forward and offered his hand. Mary raised her eyebrow again, but returned the gesture and they shook hands. Cas could feel the excitement rolling off of Dean, and he hated himself all the more for having to tell him about Sam.

As if on cue, Dean looked him straight in the eye.

“Where’s Sam,” he asked, voice casual.

Cas couldn’t help the despair washing over him again. This was not a situation he could have ever prepared himself for. Sam’s very _very_ protective brother and resurrected mother stared at him expectantly.

Cas winced. “I don’t know, Dean, I was banished as soon as we returned-”

Dean gestured to the wall behind him where the burnt sigil was painted. “Yeah, I figured,” he said over him, “but who was it? Who set the trap?”

Cas shook his head and pulled himself up to his full height. “There aren’t many possibilities. The warding on the door wasn’t broken, and there is no other way in. It was a woman in her 30’s dressed in a blazer. At first I assumed she was an angel, or perhaps a fallen angel, but neither would be able to enter the way I can.”

Some time ago, Sam had used his newfound fluency in Enochian to place a door in the ceiling specified to Cas. No other angel could come through there. Even Lucifer had to use the front door. 

Dean nodded and sat down to think. Mary’s keen eyes switched back and forth between the angel and her son, obviously working through something. She finally huffed with a curl in the corner of her mouth, as if she reached some sort of conclusion. 

“Coffee?” she asked Cas.

“Pardon me?” Cas said, not knowing if she was asking if he wanted coffee or if he could drink it. 

“I have a pot brewing, and thought you might like a cup. How do you take it?” A small smile was creeping across her face, part amusement, part knowing.

“Thank you, I take it with sugar and cream,” he said, trying to hide the surprise in his voice. 

Mary patted Dean on the shoulder and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen. Cas watched her go in awe. The elusive Mary Winchester. They had been looking for her in Heaven for years, but the only news that had circulated was that Michael had her hidden somewhere before he had tried to use Dean as a vessel, and he had been in the cage since- reportedly (if you could trust Lucifer’s word, ha!) out of his mind. So she had been tucked away somewhere. Cas hummed in assent.

He felt Dean before he even noticed the hunter had risen from the table. His strong arms wrapped around Cas from behind, sliding around his waist until Dean was pressed flush against his back, stealing his breath once more. Dean splayed his fingers across Cas’ chest and stomach, causing his heart to triple in pace. Dean rested his forehead on the base of Cas’ neck. He could feel his breath, ragged and harsh, huffing damply along the collar of his coat.

Cas shuddered and waited, sinking back into the embrace, determined to again memorize the touch in case this was the last one. 

Dean finally spoke, raising his head to speak to the back of Cas’ ear.

“I’m so sorry, Cas,” he said quietly, voice cracking with emotion, “I’m so sorry I put the responsibility of looking after Sam on you, this is not your fault. Okay?”

Cas couldn’t make a sound around the large lump in his throat, so he nodded. 

“Good,” whispered Dean. He pulled his hands back, making Cas want to cry in protest, but he moved them to the angel’s shoulders and turned him slowly to face him. Cas was sure his cheeks were blood red, and that Dean could surely hear his heart pounding. 

Cas caught Dean’s eyes. They were sincere and full of something he wasn’t sure he was seeing. Dean pulled him in again, for a proper hug, this time Cas sliding his hands around Dean’s waist. They aligned from neck hips, and Cas could swear he felt Dean’s arousal pressing into his thigh. Cas gasped, sinking deeper into the embrace, taking a chance and finally getting to press his mouth and nose into the dip of Dean’s neck. He breathed deeply, relishing the smell of dried sweat, leather, the cedar hangers Dean used to store his flannel shirts on, and the scent of his pheromones pouring from his skin. 

Dean chuckled softly. “Thanks for coming back when I called,” he mumbled into Cas’ hair, “I can’t do any of this without you.”

“Dean,” Cas choked out, lips briefly brushing Dean’s skin, making the hunter shiver, “how are you alive?”

Dean regrettably pulled away from Cas just as Mary returned with a tray of coffee mugs. His eyes remained fixed on Cas, as if mesmerized. Mary appeared oblivious of the rather explicit hug that took place in the room moments before.

Dean took an offered mug with a fond smile. Mary returned it, and passed Cas his mug as well.

The coffee was excellent. Cas stared into his mug as if it would reveal the mystery of how Mary brewed the perfect cup. 

“Wow holy sh- cow, mom,” said Dean, “this is the best coffee I’ve had, in like, well, ever.”

Mary laughed at Cas’ eager agreement. 

“Well that ancient coffee pot looked like it hadn’t been washed out in a decade,” she said with a laugh, “the pot wasn’t even clear anymore. It just needed a good scrub.”

“I believe you are correct,” said Cas, rolling his eyes over to Dean pointedly, “the coffee maker hasn’t been cleaned in a very long time.”

“Hey!” said Dean defensively, “it’s like good luck socks. You don’t change them and you have a winning streak, okay?”

“Yes,” mused Cas, “I think you had said, ‘the coffee grounds need to bathe in the blood of their fallen brothers.’” 

Mary burst out laughing, the sound bright and merry in the darkened room. She grinned at Cas and gripped his bicep in a friendly manner. 

“I like you,” she said teasingly, “you can stay.”

Cas couldn’t help the large grin stretching across his face. He really liked Dean’s mom, and was startled by how important her acceptance of him had suddenly become. 

He glanced at Dean who was watching them with interest. His face was soft and there was a flash of longing that crossed his features before he returned the smile. 

“And now,” Mary said, tone serious as she squeezed Cas’ arm once gently, “we need to deal with this business about my baby boy. I think we might be able to track him.”

Dean nodded. “What did you have in mind?”

Mary leaned into the table and tented her hands on its surface. Cas had seen that stance many times before, held by a high ranking officer right before his garrison would begin a battle. And battle was what Mary seemed to be prepared for. 

“If we have a map and a few ingredients, I can do a location spell. Can we go into town for a few herbs? Is there a hunter-friendly shop around here? We may need to go to Lawrence, but that’s fine, a few hours, and then we need to plan-”

“Mom,” Dean said with a smirk, waving her to follow him and setting off to the storage rooms, “I think we have it covered.”

Cas stayed behind, his mind running a mile a minute.

_What was that hug about I must have imagined it that's the only explanation maybe Dean didn’t have an erection I can’t exactly ask him now because his mother is here now what do I do this is not the time to worry about such selfish things we must find Sam this is my responsibility I need to be taking care of this I think his mother might like me…_

Cas closed his eyes momentarily, searching for a cartographer nearby. The state archives were closed, but he was sure they wouldn’t mind if he procured a few maps for the spell. Moments later, he was spreading several large maps on the war room table- world, country, states, individual cities. He might have to go back and get more, but he was sure this was a good starting point.

Mary and Dean strode back into the room, arms full of supplies. Mary was chattering about the spell and talking excitedly about the archives and books she had already seen in the bunker so far. Dean was looking at her in awe, and Cas didn’t have to read his mind to know what he was thinking. Maty was ‘nerding out’ exactly how Sam did. Dean’s eyes got watery as he set down a small caldron and a bunch of herbs. Mary flipped her hair out of her eyes, an unconscious gesture, but it was Sam all over. She placed her hands on her hips and regarded the two men in front of her. She commanded authority, and Dean and Cas awaited their orders. 

“Looks like we have the maps- thanks Cas,” he gave her a nod, “let's start with the world one. It’s unlikely, but not impossible for him to have been taken to another country.”

They spread out the world map, and Mary started crushing herbs in a bowl. She added a strand of Sam’s hair (easy to find, it was spread all over the bunker, and Dean was always finding it in random places and griping about it), and set the map on fire. It burned quickly, leaving only the state of Kansas. Dean sighed in relief audibly. It meant Sam was alive, still missing, but alive. Which meant they needed him alive, but for what purpose? Information, possibly. It didn’t have Crowley’s mark on it, and it wasn’t a demon who took him. 

Mary lit the map of Kansas. It flared up and burned down to Lebanon, much to everyone’s relief. He was nearby. This they could work with. Mary lit the town map, and they waited. 

A perfect circle remained, large, encompassing many buildings. 

Mary frowned at the map. “They must have some sort of warding up, which means they aren’t trying to make a quick getaway. They might be warded against angels, Cas, but I sure we can get in first and break the warding.”

“That would explain why I haven’t heard any prayers from him yet,” Cas offered.

She turned to Dean. “Baby, I know you want to leave right now, but it’s still pretty early in the morning, and you are exhausted. I don’t want you to fight without sleeping first.”

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but it died in his mouth with one look from Mary. “Yes, ma'am,” he mumbled, “I guess i am pretty tired. I could use my four hours.”

“Try 8,” Mary said smirking, visibly holding back her glee at Dean allowing her to mother him. 

Dean laughed, “Yes, mother,” he sang out and headed down the hall. He paused and looked over his shoulder. 

“You coming?” he said to Cas. Cas felt the world stop under his feet. His cheeks flamed as he glanced at Mary, noting the raised eyebrow again- but with a hint of amusement. 

Cas looked at Dean’s retreating back. He wasn’t sure what was happening; he was sure at least Dean was aware that he didn’t require sleep. But who was he to turn down an opportunity to be alone with Dean again? He smiled sheepishly at Mary and they said their goodnights, and he followed Dean to the hall of bedrooms. 

Sam’s door was open as Cas passed it, bedside light turned on, looking neater than usual. Instead of clothing being strewn everywhere, piles of books stacked on the floor and desk, and water bottles collecting on the bedside table, everything was carefully put away and organized. Cas hadn’t been paying much attention when Lucifer was occupying his vessel (it was too disturbing and the guy only wanted to talk about _Sam_ , and it was like _just let it go already, you sick fuck_ ), but he was pretty sure Satan didn’t fold Sam Winchester’s socks. 

It had to be where Mary was staying. It touched Cas that she wanted to surround herself with the belongings of her son; the one she didn’t know yet, the baby that was denied a mother to take care of him when he was so young and vulnerable. Cas could see she was a fierce adversary, and Father help whoever took her son. They were sure to die. 

Cas continued down the hall, passing the intersection where he had come upon Dean the demon about to kill Sam with a hammer and Cas had stopped him. And then they had healed him. And then nothing was the same after that. There was so much refuse piled between them; it was almost impossible to feel Dean through it all. Cas wasn’t sure he could actually read Dean’s mind if he tried- there were just too many walls. 

He could remember the days where he would just fly into a room with Dean and pretend he didn’t know any better than to be inside Dean’s ‘bubble.’ Dean would stand inches apart from him, not backing up, his soul radiating and reaching out to Cas’ grace. Back then, Cas didn’t know why he did it- he had no desire to stand that close to any other human, so he decided it was the profound bond they shared because he saved Dean from Hell. His grace had left a mark on him, and he figured that was what called to him. Cas only later realized it was what humans understood as love. He had loved Dean since he had touched his damaged soul in Hell and dragged him away. It made no sense that he would fall in love with a human- it was strictly forbidden- but after discovering his own Father was a bisexual drunk writer of bad sci-fi versions of the Winchester’s lives, Cas realized he probably shouldn’t worry too much about being struck down or cast from Heaven. When Metatron gave Cas every written word in existence, it included the Supernatural books, and Cas could safely say that his Father’s writing was very indicative of an underlying attraction between himself and the hunter. It was what Metatron referred to as ‘subtext.’ 

However, it was pretty late in the game for any of those things to matter. 

He continued the slow walk to his and Dean’s rooms. The brothers had given him his own bedroom in the bunker, though he preferred to ‘hang out’ in either of theirs. Sam had the best wi-fi connection for watching the Netflix, and Dean’s bed was more comfortable for naps. The brothers were away a lot while Cas was recovering, and he felt closer to them being surrounded by their belongings. 

Cas didn’t know if he was supposed to just go to his room, or if Dean wanted to talk. Dean’s door was open, and his light was still on, so chances were he was waiting for Cas. Cas began to panic slightly, always stunned how one human could make him feel so many things at once. 

Dean was still dressed, sitting on the end of his bed, waiting with his hands clasped loosely between his knees. Cas stood awkwardly in the doorway, not knowing if he should simply say goodnight and retire to his own room or throw Dean back onto his bed and-

“Cas,” Dean said, looking at the floor, “can you...um...come here?”

Cas tried to contain his excitement as best as he could, still slightly confused- did Dean mean he wanted Cas to stay with him, or just talk for a minute? Cas hummed a yes and walked toward the bed. He stopped just shy of the mattress, debating on whether he should sit down or not. Dean reached up and took his hand, not pulling him one way or the other. Cas felt the warmth from Dean’s fingers travel up his body, flowing to every corner, flushing his face and causing his skin to tingle. It was quite pleasant. Dean finally raised his face, brows drawn together in worry. He looked around Cas at the open door. Cas lifted his free hand, waved a finger at it, mojoing it closed.


	2. Without Further Ado

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean do the sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy buckaroos! Here's some smut!
> 
> Yay!

Dean’s mouth quirked a half smile as he pulled Cas down to sit next to him. 

“Cas,” he sighed, looking at the floor, “I don’t know how to- I mean, I fucked up so big- I don’t know how to fix this... tell me how to fix this.”

Dean looked up with pleading eyes, and waited for Cas to respond. His face held more lines than Cas remembered. The weight of the world had pressed itself upon this man’s shoulders, he was once again thrust into throwing himself on the grenade, and Cas could see the toll it had taken. The lines between his eyes held so much self-doubt and worry. He could see the faded laugh lines that hadn’t made an appearance nearly enough in the past few years, and Cas hated how much more prominent the worry lines were. He knew his choices we the cause of the hunter’s worry, and he hated himself even more. He absently reached up and smoothed his thumb across Dean’s brow, trying to remove them with a touch, without using his grace. 

Dean’s eyes fluttered shut, and he leaned into the touch. Cas rested his palms on either side of Dean’s face, marveling how he was being allowed this intimate of a touch. Perhaps he had read the situation wrong? Dean’s eyes slowly opened and his pupils shrank to adjust to the brightness- then slowly grew again. His green eyes were fixed on Cas, cutting through him and leaving him feeling very naked in that moment. 

Cas didn’t know what to do. If he leaned in and kissed Dean, it could mean the end of their friendship. But if he let him go, it might never happen again, and he wasn’t sure Dean would ever be able to initiate it again if he were rejected. Dean must have seen the hesitation, his brows drawing back up. Dean placed his hands on Cas’ elbows, holding him gently in place. 

“Cas?” he whispered, voice low and rough. The angel could feel the tension burning up the room around them, electricity jumping back and forth between them in a loop, making the air crackle. 

“Dean,” Cas responded, pulling Dean closer, but allowing him to close the gap. 

Their lips met, dry and soft, just a press, then parting slightly, sliding across one another, tender and breathy. Cas slid his hand around to the back of Dean’s neck, tilting his head and taking Dean’s bottom lip into his mouth. Dean gasped, and Cas pulled back to look him in the eye again. There was a pretty pink coloring the dusting of freckles across the hunter’s cheeks, and his eyes were wide and blinking. He huffed shallow breaths from parted lips before growling and diving back in and dipping into Cas’ mouth with his tongue. Cas opened his mouth and kissed him hungrily back, sucking on Dean’s tongue. Dean groaned into his mouth and yanked Cas’ body forward to press their chests together awkwardly from the side. 

Dean seemed to think better of it, and crawled over Cas’ leg and slid to the floor between his knees, not breaking contact. He knelt in front of Cas, running his hands over Cas’ thighs, stopping at his groin and pressing his thumbs into where hip met pelvis, causing Cas to buck up slightly and moan. The angel’s cock was fully erect, and he squirmed to get friction against Dean or his pants. Dean grabbed Cas’ coat lapels and pushed it off his shoulders, pulling off his tie as Cas freed himself from the trench coat and suit jacket. Dean had his shirt tails out in a flash and was running his fingers firmly up the angel’s torso. He paused at Cas’ nipples. Rubbing circles with his thumbs in sync with his tongue in Cas’ mouth, making him moan again. Cas yanked Dean’s shirt over his head, and pulled him tighter to the v between his legs and bucked again as Dean’s fingers trailed down his sides and pushed between their bodies, deftly unbuttoned Cas’ shirt with quick fingers. He pushed Cas back on the bed, breaking the kiss and sliding back to his knees. Cas lay, panting, as Dean expertly unbuckled him and yanked his pants and boxers down, leaving them below his knees, stopped by his shoes and socks. The hunter seemed to have no patience for this; he ran his hands back up Cas’s thighs and knelt one knee on the bunched pants, holding the angel’s legs completely still. He leaned forward, brushing his lips teasingly over the insides of Cas’ thighs as he pushed his knees further apart, pausing occasionally to suck a bruise into his pale skin. Cas squirmed, unable to move his legs, and twisted his fingers in the sheets. 

Cas was making very undignified noises, but they seemed to spurn Dean on. He had made his way up to Cas’ hips and was sucking on the spaces between his hips and groin, alternating sides, moving slowly to ghost his breath over Cas’ straining, leaking erection. Cas had never felt so hard, it felt amazing, but it wasn’t enough and he bucked his hips slightly with a growl, trying to meet Dean’s lips for some friction. Dean switched his grip back to Cas’ ass and smirked up at him, mere centimeters between his lips and Cas’ cock. His red, bitten lips, glistening with saliva. Cas shuddered visibly and Dean’s pupils grew, and he pressed his still-clothed erection to Cas’ shin, rubbing in slow circles. Cas gave him a dark look and debated whether he should be patient or use his grace to flip Dean and get a look at his cock. He would be kind and swallow him down and not torture him like this. 

Dean seemed to be reading his mind, because without further ado, he leaned all the way forward and picked up the head of Cas’ cock just with his lips, and _sucked_ while pushing his lips down a few inches, pulling back slightly and sucking down a bit further. Cas shouted out, then slapped his hand over his mouth to muffle his yells. He wanted to watch as his cock disappeared into Dean’s mouth, but his eyes kept rolling back in his head. The pleasure was intense, and he had to concentrate to not buck his hips and come in Dean’s mouth. He wanted to prolong the experience as long as possible. 

Cas detached part of his consciousness to float above himself and watch as Dean enthusiastically sucked and slurped up and down, bringing a hand up to pull on his balls and roll them in his hands. His other hand came up to hold the base of his erection, stroking what didn’t fit in his mouth. Dean rubbed and humped Cas’ leg, causing the pleasure radiating through Cas to increase, watching Dean stimulate himself using his body. Cas watched himself grab Dean’s hair and pull, slowing him down before it was too quickly over, and Dean pulled off with a smile. His lips were even more swollen and Cas pulled him up until Dean was straddling his knee crookedly and kissed him hard, tasting himself and pouring the pent-up lust that showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. 

Dean propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at Cas as if seeing him for the first time. 

“Cas,” he breathed, “holy shit Cas this is so fucking hot, I need you to-” Dean swallowed, looking away, but forcing his eyes back up to meet the angel’s.

Cas was reminded of the first time he saw Dean; instead of seeing the death and distruction, he could see the broken soul calling to him in the darkness, brighter than anything he had ever seen. If he had only understood what love was, he would have told him then. Maybe it wouldn’t have taken so long to get them here. 

“Cas, I want you- inside me,” he stammered, “I mean- I want…”

Dean took a deep breath and refocused. “I want you inside me Cas. i want you to fuck the hell outta me.”

Cas nearly came on the front of Dean’s jeans- and he did dampen them a little with a spurt of precome at his words. 

“Dean, nothing would make me happier,” growled out Cas, pushing Dean up and pulling his clothing off quickly. His shoes and Dean’s boots gave him problems, so he used a quick surge of grace and flung them across the room. Dean laughed. 

“We could have totally been naked a long time ago,” he chuckled.

“I wanted to savor being allowed to touch your skin,” Cas whispered into Dean’s neck and he licked his way up his ear. He flipped them, their finally nude bodies lined up, their erections trapped between them, slick in the precome and sweat, and rutted into each other for a moment, kissing passionately again. Cas felt honored having been allowed to have Dean this way. 

Dean reached out a blind hand and fumbled under his pillow and produced a bottle of lube. Cas took it from him with sure hands. He had never done this with anyone, but he had watched plenty of homosexual pornography not long after he discovered his feelings for Dean contained a broad stroke of sexual desire. Cas discovered it was more stimulating than the pizza man. While seeing the pizza man penetrate the girl was arousing, it was nothing compared to seeing a man penetrate another man, especially one who looked like Dean. He had scoured several websites (which made for a very messy but productive day) until he found an actor who looked similar to the hunter, he he would touch himself and shut his eyes and imagine Dean was the one doing it. He would come with Dean’s name on his lips, usually on Dean’s bed with his face in the hunter’s pillow, inhaling his perfect scent. 

He then had a short and embarassing conversation with Sam about clearing browser history.

Cas accepted the bottle of lube and Dean spread his knees apart to allow Cas to position himself between them. He moved up into a kneel, and lifted Dean’s hips with a pillow, displaying him fully, and was pleased that Dean didn’t shy away, he just moaned and spread his legs further.

“Have you ever done this before Dean?” Cas asked casually, “been penetrated? I do not want to cause you any discomfort.”

As if in response, Dean’s hole fluttered slightly, causing Cas to groan and stroke himself a couple of times to relieve some of the pressure. 

Dean smiled wickedly, tucking his folded arms behind his head. 

“Only by myself,” he said with a wink, “I was curious, I guess. But I’ll tell you something,” He paused, watching Cas closely. “I always thought of you. I’d have three fingers twisting up my ass, pretending it was your cock and coming so hard I nearly blacked out.”

Cas had to close his eyes against the tide of lust that washed over him. Stilling himself and flashing through the images Dean described that were burned into the walls of that very room, he was overwhelmed. 

“Cas?” Cas opened his eyes to slightly worried Dean. “Oh, I thought I’d lost you for a moment-”

Dean’s sentence ended in a moan as Cas darted forward to take Dean in his mouth, wasting no time swallowing him down and sucking enthusiastically. Cas grabbed Dean’s hips and pushed them upward, encouraging Dean to fuck his mouth. He swallowed the noises Dean made, cataloging them for later. He prayed that this would never end- if he had to give up Dean, he was sure he wouldn’t survive on this planet anymore. 

Dean was writhing underneath him. While he was distracted, Cas took one finger and gathered the dripping saliva from the base of Dean’s cock and ran it over his balls and along his perineum, pausing to press firmly there, stimulating the prostate from the outside. He moved on to Dean’s hole, using Dean’s thrusting momentum to push into him. Dean gasped out and pushed back, spearing himself further onto his finger- fucking up into Cas’ mouth and down on his finger. 

Cas felt the muscle give and loosen with ease. He was soon able to add lube and a second finger, causing Dean to thrust hard into Cas’ mouth, deeper into his throat. Cas reflexively swallowed, and Dean stilled.

“Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move,” Dean ground out, his eyes squeezed shut, his dick twitching in Cas’ throat, “I’m gonna come if you move, gimme a minute.”

Dean gulped down air, slowing his breathing. Cas watched amusedly, from his perspective and the one from above, as Dean tried to calm himself while deep in Cas’ throat with two fingers buried deep in his rectum, barely brushing his prostate. 

Finally able to look up, Dean grinned at him, and whistled low. “You have no idea what you do to me, Cas,” he said, “you have no fucking clue.”

Cas pulled off slowly, relishing the way Dean’s eyes rolled back in his head as he popped off wetly and huffed a laugh. He wiggled his fingers slightly, making contact with Dean’s prostate finally, and smirked when Dean arched off the mattress and almost squeaked. 

“I think I have some idea, Dean,” he said teasingly, “I did, after all, rebuild you. I know where all your most sensitive spots are.” To make his point, he added a third finger and thrust directly into that little bundle of nerves again. Dean screamed silently, and arched again, then thrust back onto Cas’ fingers, pushing them deeper.

“Cas, I’m ready,” Dean managed when he could speak again, “fuck me now.”

Cas growled and removed his hand -causing Dean hiss- to generously slather lube all over his cock. He wasted no time pushing Dean’s knees up and pressing himself to Dean’s pulsing hole. He paused and savored the moment Dean relaxed enough for him to move forward. He steadily applied pressure until the head pushed past the first ring of muscle. Dean clenched instinctively, and Cas stopped to bend down to kiss him and wait for him to adjust. The kisses were sloppy and distracted, and Cas was grateful for the break- Dean was so hot and wet and tight that he was close to coming. He had never felt something that squeezed him so hard; he had only masturbated with his hand, and one time, when he was feeling curious about pushing the limits of his vessel’s flexibility, he had taken himself into his own mouth, but this was a whole new sensation. Dean’s muscles relaxed eventually, letting up the pressure a little, making it more comfortable for both of them. But Cas still waited. Dean began to deepen the kiss, hungrily, and then thrusting and wiggling as best he could in that trapped position, and finally Cas gave in and pushed deeper. They moaned loudly into each other’s mouths as Cas filled him fully until he was pressed flush with Dean. He looked down, amazed at the place they were connected, hardly believing it was real. He was _inside_ Dean Winchester, and it was so much better than he could have ever imagined. He rolled his hips experimentally, then pulled Dean’s legs around his waist to take the pressure off Dean’s folded knees. Dean groaned in relief and pulled Cas back down to kiss him as Cas thrust shallowly. 

“Cas,” Dean mumbled into his mouth, “you stormed the gates of Hell, stood up to the devil himself, faced the Darkness, I’m pretty sure you can fuck me harder than that.”

Cas raised and eyebrow and looked down at the hunter. _Challenge accepted,_ he thought, and pulled out almost all the way, slamming back in. He moved back to a kneeling position again, gripping Dean’s hips with bruising force and slamming back in again. The pace was brutal and Dean was gripping the headboard and practically howling with pleasure. 

Cas could feel the build in his belly, his impending orgasm, and he pulled himself back into his body fully so he could experience it from a singular perspective and feel Dean come first. He tilted Dean’s pelvis slightly, nailing his prostate over and over, a steady rhythm bringing Dean closer to the edge. Cas hoped Dean would open his eyes when he came, he wanted to see the deep green when he came. See if they glowed or shone or anything. He could feel Dean clench around him.

“Dean, Look at me,” he growled.

Dean’s eyes snapped open and met his, causing him gasp and come with a shout, arching his back and rolling his eyes shut again. The squeeze around Cas’ cock was the right amount of pulsing pressure, and after three more thrusts, he slammed hard into Dean and came. Cas’ eyes had slipped closed and he was surrounded by a white light and the pleasure rushed him and all he could think was that Dean was here with him. And no matter what happened, he had this, and no one could take it from him- he would fight to the death to keep it. He could hear himself chanting mindlessly in Enochian, oaths of love and devotion, committing himself in eternity to Dean as the hunter wrang the last pulses of pleasure out of him. 

Panting heavily, Cas opened his eyes into the very shocked face of Dean Winchester. Cas panicked, wondering if Dean had understood anything he had just said. But Dean was looking up and behind Cas- almost at the ceiling with a fixed stare. Cas raised an eyebrow and experimentally flexed his wings. Yes. They were out. 

“Well, that was unexpected,” he said apologetically, “I’m sorry Dean, I didn’t know that would happen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, that smut was like way vanilla. It was to me anyway. 
> 
> So I need to take it up a notch. Brace yourselves.


	3. Mama Said a Pistol was the Devil's Right Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary watched with an amused smile as her very adult son and the angel ( _angel?_ that was completely out-of-the-blue) walked from the room in the direction of the sleeping quarters. She wasn’t entirely sure of the nature of their relationship, but it was pretty clear Dean was in love with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Mary's POV, which I really enjoyed writing. 
> 
> Thank so much to my dear friend who I met like two days ago, rosie_berber, for doing the beta thing with me last night. Sleepy good times. 
> 
> And also, thank you thecrazyhippieone for the idea to do Mary POV!
> 
> I have some delicious smut in mind, so hang in there!

Mary watched with an amused smile as her very adult son and the angel ( _angel?_ that was completely out-of-the-blue) walked from the room in the direction of the sleeping quarters. She wasn’t entirely sure of the nature of their relationship, but it was pretty clear Dean was in love with him.

She snorted a laugh at the empty room. She had always told him that angels watched over him. Who knew?

She thought back to their earlier conversation in the archive room. It was rather rushed and only gave her a vague understanding of who Castiel was in relation to her boys. Dean had laughed nervously, and scratched absent-mindedly at his forearm when he explained.

“So remember the angels I was talking about on the way here?” he asked, pointing Mary in the direction of the cabinets of herbs.

Mary nodded and looked at him shrewdly. “I believe you referred to them as ‘dicks with wings?’ I assume your friend in there is an exception?”

Dean grimaced and nodded. “Here’s the thing. When the Apocalypse was about to pop off, Cas, he, well...kind of rescued me from Hell.”

“Like Hell, Hell?” Mary paused her rummaging, and turned to him. 

“Yeah, long story, but he brought me back. Anyway, he became an ally and rebelled against the whole ‘destiny and watching the world burn’ plan of the angels and helped us out. Sacrificed himself, actually.”

Dean stared off into space, his head cocked, momentarily far away. Mary waited.

“He really has sacrificed everything. Over and over,” he said more to himself than to her, “for me.”

Mary hummed in assent and smiled. It was nice to see that her son had found someone.  
“You love him,” she said.

Dean snapped out of his reverie. “What? No- I don’t I mean...well, we haven’t-we’re not…” Dean finished weakly, “You don’t think it’s weird?”

“Well,” said Mary, unconsciously flipping her hair out of her eyes, “it is a little unorthodoxed, but I once knew a hunter who fell in love with a skinwalker- she usually kept her human form, and it was a little strange to get used to, but it was cool by me. Of course, not many other hunters felt the same- my dad had a lot to say about it, but-”

“Wait- what?” Dean asked, shaking his head, “No, I meant the whole Cas being...um, a _guy_ and all. You don’t, er- have a problem with that?”

Mary huffed a laugh and went back to her rummaging, shaking her head amusedly. “Of course not, Dean. Why would I? You never met him- but your uncle Bill, my mom’s brother, was gay. He was around a lot when I was younger. Not a hunter, had no idea about the life, but he was family.”

Dean stared with his mouth open. “I’m not, um, gay-”

“Never said you were,” Mary said lightly, “just letting you know that whatever makes you happy is alright with me. And it’s clear that your angel feels the same way.”

Dean was silent, seeming to be deep in thought. Mary continued to look down her list and left him to sort it out.

“I never told him, you know?” Dean said finally, “I had the shot, but I missed. I chickened out, and it was almost too late. I just feel like, I don’t know, like I’ve just let him down so much. He rebelled against _Heaven_ for me. How can I ever live up to that?”

“I’m sure he had his reasons,” Mary said simply, “but in this life, you gotta take your chances because God knows if you’ll live to see the next day. You have to hold on to the people you still have.” She paused and took a deep breath, suddenly missing John deeply. “I gave up everything to be with your father. More than you know. If I hadn’t left with him when I did-” she blinked back tears. “I had to live with the knowledge that one day I would go to Hell because I made a deal with that demon. Turns out it wasn’t my soul he wanted. And I have to live with that, knowing what I put you and Sam through. I would have gladly spent eternity in Hell if it meant you would have had a different life.” 

_Regret is not something Hunters can afford to wallow in, Mary,_ her dad always said, _what’s done is done._

“But what’s done is done,” she said aloud and wiped a few loose tears from her eyes.

Dean stepped forward and grabbed her, hugging her tightly, the way he did when he first saw her in the woods. Mary relaxed into his arms, allowing herself the momentary luxury of emotion. After a few deep breaths, she cleared her throat and straightened up, squeezing Dean once and stepping back. It didn’t help to linger in the past or be paralyzed by emotions- now was the time to bring her boy home. It was time to have a family again.

***

There wasn’t a whole lot that Mary remembered about her Heaven. It was like someone had graciously dulled the memories and softened the corners, making the present appear all the more sharp. She could vaguely remember being held in an elaborately decorated large room where not much happened, and it was as close to a picture-book idea of Heaven as you could get. It was puzzling- she had expected that Heaven would be enjoyable, but that place was closer to a cell, a gilded cage. It was if she was waiting for something, but nothing ever happened. 

After some indeterminable amount of time, a man just appeared in there with her- he was nice enough, but he seemed to be a prisoner too. She had pleaded with him to let her out, but he was reluctant to even talk to her. Something about hiding from his brothers and not wanting to draw attention to himself. She had at first thought him an angel- but what kind of angel would be so selfish and disrespectful? Or eat so much candy? The guy seemed to have handfuls of the stuff just laying around. She grew bored of his antics and one day he was just gone. It wasn’t until she was alone that she appreciated his presence, but it was too late. Time passed and she began to wonder if she really was in Hell after all.

And then suddenly she was standing in a forest, in her friggin’ nightgown, freezing her ass off. It was a nice change from more of the same, but what the fuck?

When Dean walked out of the woods, Mary was hit with a wave of familiarity so strong she knew who he was. He had her eyes, of course, but who would have thought he would end up looking so much like her grandfather? Put him in Navy dress blues, and he was the spitting image of Papa’s framed photo that sat atop the folded flag in a case in her mother’s parlor. Except Papa was blonder. 

They had hitched a ride into the nearest town, not saying much, mostly still in shock. At one point, she felt Dean’s hand creep into hers and her heart skipped. It seemed impossible that her little boy- the one she sang to and who loved grilled cheese and Big Bird- was a grown man. But she squeezed his hand in what she hoped was a reassuring manner, and he smiled at her gratefully. 

They arrived a few days later in Lebanon, ditched their stolen Mazda, and walked the rest of the way to the bunker. Dean had explained the best he could about the Men of Letters, but nothing had prepared her for what they walked into. She had stood wordless, gaping at the tomes lining the walls, and the elaborate computer system (the first piece of technology that made sense to her that week). There was warding everywhere and it was obvious that it was the safest place Mary had ever set foot in. It was the perfect home.

 

Of course, Dean was pacing around, panicking and poking the screen rapidly on his ‘cell’ phone that he had left in the bunker all week, trying to locate Sam. Mary was so looking forward to meeting her younger son, and very disappointed that he was missing. But disappointed didn’t quite cover it. More like seething with white-hot fury that anyone would dare try and hurt her darling baby. Her apparently 6 foot 8 inch baby. But she kept her anger in check- it wouldn’t serve Dean well to have her waver. She needed to help him stay centered. 

While Dean had been pacing and grumbling about someone named ‘Cas,’ she wandered the halls until she found what she was sure to be Sam’s bedroom. It was an absolute disaster area. Perhaps it was just to soothe her frayed nerves, but she started to tidy up, and it turned into a full on stress-cleaning spree. By the end, there were fresh linens on the bed, and all of Sam’s clothes were put away properly, and anything suspicious-looking was disposed of. Specifically the old cartons of Chinese food and the mountain of coffee cups with varying degrees of mold growth. 

She had felt better when the room was clean and the chaos was subdued, and decided she would bunk there. She had come across some interesting weapons in her frenzy, so she set them in easily accessed places around the room. Including a pistol under the pillow and one in the back of her jeans. 

They had hit the army surplus store on the way to the bunker so she could get some work clothes, and she had already secured her weapons and backup weapons on her body. Pistol, switchblade in the pocket, straight razor in the boot, razor blade in the cuff of her jacket, and bobby pins in her hair for picking locks. She was always prepared; the Little Hunter Girl Scout, Dad had called her. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t at least a little bit excited about hunting again. 

Meeting Cas was not the most upsetting thing to happen in her recent memory. Boy, did it make her blood pump, though. It had been so long since she had been in her Hunter gear, but all her years of training kicked in and she had her gun trained on the slouchy little man in the tan trench coat and striped tie in a half second. 

Her first impression, of course, was suspicion- but when Dean easily stepped in front of her gun to protect him, she knew he was special to her son. He was so dogged about being banished, and seemed to hold the weight of the world upon his shoulders. 

She wondered where his wings were, but thought it might be rude to ask.

When the two of them disappeared down the hall together, she decided to make herself scarce. The keys to the Impala were on the table where Dean had left them a week ago, and she thought she might take the old girl for a spin. It was no surprise that she was in good of shape as she was; John had always treated that damn car almost as good as his wife. 

She felt another pang of sorrow remembering once washing the car with him in the bright sun, spraying him with the hose and chasing a half-naked three-year-old Dean around the front yard. It almost seemed like someone else’s dream, a wisp of a time that never really existed.

Baby. That’s what Dean called her when they first arrived at the bunker. He grumbled about yelling at Sam for leaving her out in the elements when they had a perfectly good garage. Mary had laughed at him and compared him to his father, which was met with a combination of a frown then a smile. She was still unsure about asking after John and what happened to him. She knew he was gone, but not when or how. It seemed to be a discussion for another time.

The Impala roared to life, and she half-expected John to appear and admonish her with a smile for peeling out of the driveway. It felt good to be behind the wheel and feel the wind filter through her hair. The smell was the same, flooding her with fond memories: leather, oil, faint odor of feet (the boys must sleep in her quite a bit), and the long faded smell of cigarettes that had permeated the interior and was impossible to get rid of. She suddenly had a craving for a smoke, but she had given that up when she found out she was pregnant with Dean. It took John a lot longer to quit, and she suspected he was still smoking at work. 

Mary drove the speed limit through the little town square, admiring the antique shops and stopped at what looked like a coffee place. It was sterile looking and wasn’t opened yet, so she pulled out and went looking for the all-night diner Dean had pointed out to her earlier. If she couldn’t smoke, by God, she was going to eat her weight in pie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was my solution on how to get Mary out of the bunker so Dean and Cas could have loud and crazy monkey-sex and no one would be in earshot.


	4. Wings and Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean do wing stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a wee bit o' smut. And wings. Wing smut. 
> 
> I decided to end this fic before they go rescue Sam- I don't want to speculate on what's going to happen in 12x1, I just wanted them to bang. A couple of times. 
> 
> thanks to my new best friends, Rosie and Celia! Thank you sooooo much <3<3<3 three pieces of pie for you!

“Don’t apologize, Cas,” breathed Dean in awe, “they’re beautiful. Can I- Can I touch them?”

They were a sight to behold. Bold, like something out of a graphic novel or an elaborate anime, but real and within reach. They were jet black on the underside, not unlike a raven’s wings. The span had to be twice the length of Cas’ body, and Dean suddenly understood how Cas could travel such long distances so fast. These babies could probably take him high up, through the stratosphere. He began to see why Cas was so sad to be reduced to being a human for so long. 

Dean had only glimpsed a shadow of Cas’ wings twice. Once when they first met and he had stabbed Cas in the chest; the other when he had showed up naked and covered in bees. Granted, he was completely out of his mind at the time, but he had been talking about the flight abilities of the honeybee, and had spread his own wings to further illustrate that it was a miracle of his Father’s creation that such a fat little body could be carried around by such tiny wings. Cas had fanned his wings outward, oblivious to the fact that Dean couldn’t see them, but when the bees slowly began to fly away, one by one, Dean had looked down at Cas’ body and became very distracted for a moment. That’s when he saw them. It was like looking at a mirage- the air around Cas was shimmering like waves of heat across Baby’s hood in the hot summer sun. If Dean didn’t look directly at them, he could make out a faint outline of the wings, stretched out to an impressive size. _That isn’t the only thing that’s an impressive size,_ he had thought at the time before he pretended to be aggravated and uncomfortable about Cas’ nudity. 

Dean looked at the angel sitting on top of him, once again stunned by his beauty, and felt a surge of affection (still not ready with the whole L-word thing), and reached out to graze his fingertips across the fluffy down closest to where they met Cas’ body. He wanted to immerse himself in the feathers, to bury his face in them, but he was unsure if that was even okay, or if Cas would think he was weird for asking. 

Cas shook his feathers and stretched them out to their full length (as much as he could in the cramped room) and tipped his left wing around his body to rest it on Dean’s chest. The angel’s erection had somewhat waned, and he started to pull out.

“Not yet, Cas,” Dean said, clenching around him, “gimme a minute...just, please.”

Cas nodded and watched with interest as Dean touched the long primary feathers at the tips of his wings. Cas lifted them slightly to Dean’s face and stroked the man’s features gently, smiling when Dean turned his face into them and breathed in. 

“My god, what is that, it smells so fucking good,” moaned Dean into the feathers, his breath sending tingles up into Cas, unexpectedly rerouting blood back into his cock inside of Dean.

“This is turning you on, isn’t it?” Dean asked, his lips quirking up into a smile. “How about if I do this?” Dean sat up slightly and ran his tongue along the top edge of his wing, eliciting a groan and more blood to flow into Cas’ cock, still buried within him. Dean echoed the sound as he felt the pressure inside himself returning, his dick twitching with renewed interest. Cas threw his head back at the dual sensations and wrapped his right wing around them too. His hips thrust forward involuntarily, and he reached out frantically for purchase, one hand landing on Dean’s chest, putting friction on his nipple, and the other gripping Dean’s cock. Dean moaned around a mouthful of feathers and bucked up into the touch. The feathers didn’t taste like anything, but the smell was intoxicating. It was a mixture of cinnamon and something that reminded Dean of Christmas. He inhaled deeper, trying to place it.

“Copal,” Cas said, “if you were wondering about the scent is. It is used as incense, mostly by the ancient Natives of this land. I helped maintain the copal trees, harvested for their amber, and the smell has always stayed with me. I find it rather enjoyable.”

Dean hummed in agreement, and closed his eyes to inhale once again. The fragrance was doing things to him. It was intoxicating, and he felt light-headed and tingles were running all over his skin where the feathers touched him. It seemed to be affecting Cas as well. Dean combed his fingers through the shorter, softer plumes beneath the primaries.

“Pull on them,” Cas growled, fanning them slightly and groaning as Dean dug his fingers into them and _pulled_ \- causing the angel to buck forward into Dean again, rolling his hips and grinding his pelvis against the back of Dean’s thighs.

Cas stopped short and looked down at the hunter. He cocked his head and a slow smirk grew across his face. Dean shivered. He had never seen that look before, but goddammit he liked it.

Cas pulled out, causing Dean to whine a, “hey!” and sat in the middle of the bed, easily manhandling Dean to sit in his lap facing him. Dean caught on and wrapped his legs around Cas waist and locked his ankles behind him as Cas lowered Dean onto his cock again. Dean moaned as he felt Cas, slick by the come leaking out of Dean’s hole, push into him again, faster this time, but not fast enough. Dean could do nothing but hang on to the angel’s shoulders as he was raised up and lowered down to be speared by Cas’ cock over and over. Dean wanted it harder, a little rougher. He was struck by a thought.

On the downstroke, he switched his grip to Cas’ wings- holding on to the bone that protruded from his scapulae, and squeezing. 

The reaction was immediate. Cas growled out several words that sounded like Enochian to Dean, and slammed his hips up as he dropped Dean onto his cock again. That became the brutal hard pace that Dean was aiming for, and he felt his own erection throb as it slid between their sweat-drenched bodies. 

Dean licked behind Cas’ ear as the angel fucked up into him, and the angel stiffened and his rhythm faltered, meaning he was probably close to the edge. Dean knew Cas would wait for him to come first, and it was not far off. He reached out and pulled Cas wing around them, so the feathers slid along his back as he bounced in Cas’ lap. The sensation of the friction of his cock between their bellies and the soft brush on his back and the pounding on his prostate cause Dean to suddenly and violently come, shooting spurts of white between them. Cas followed in mere seconds, calling out Dean’s name among other words that the hunter missed as the world went white and silent for a moment. 

Dean came to on his back, surrounded by blackness and slotted up against Cas’ body. Dean looked up into the angel’s eyes and pulled him down for a kiss. Cas tightened his wings around them, closing up into a cocoon, warm and safe from the outside world.

Dean wanted to remain there forever. He knew reality would sink in soon, and they would have to go fight the good fight and save Sam, but for the time being, he could hold the one true love of his life and let the world disappear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So long fam! I love you like Cas loves bees! See you on the next episode of How Dirty Can This Get!


	5. Author's Important Opinions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These are the memes that I made the day after this episode. I had feelings.

<http://hatsonhamburgers.tumblr.com/post/150917706594/super-neutral-angel-inspired-by>

<http://hatsonhamburgers.tumblr.com/post/150917550584/super-neutral-angel-this-is-what-i-saw-and-no>

**Author's Note:**

> I AM SOOOOO HAPPY MARY WINCHESTER IS A BADASS!!!! She always has been shown as Dean knew her- gentle and passive (except young Mary) and in a nightgown. I'm so goddamn sick of that nightgown. 
> 
> It makes me sad that she and John never got to hunt together. :(
> 
> The smut has been written, I just need to edit it.


End file.
